


The Commodore's Salute

by alltoseek



Category: Aubrey-Maturin Series - Patrick O'Brian
Genre: Hate Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-19
Updated: 2012-11-19
Packaged: 2017-11-19 01:07:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/567315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alltoseek/pseuds/alltoseek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a <a href="http://perfect-duet.livejournal.com/366256.html?thread=4274352#t4274352">prompt</a> from <a href="http://perfect-duet.livejournal.com">perfect_duet</a>'s <a href="http://perfect-duet.livejournal.com/366256.html">2010 Anything Goes meme</a>: <i>Jack/Harte hatesex. Nuff said. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Commodore's Salute

**Author's Note:**

> Please note I have opted not to use warnings. Bear in mind this is _hate_ sex.

_Captain_ Aubrey's mouth gaped in angry astonishment at the silly smug face across from him. He knew Harte would do him a bad turn any time he could - Harte had done so, again and again. But this was beyond belief - to _controvert_ the late admiral's orders - in favor of a _less-senior_ captain - impossible! Before he knew it, Aubrey had leant over the table, grabbed Harte's neckcloth and dragged him back across, twisting the snug neckcloth tighter, so that Harte's eyes bugged out and his tongue lolled from his open mouth, but he could not shout for the Marine guard just outside the door. Aubrey found his other fist drawn back, ready to turn that smug face into so much slush, but he hesitated. That scrub Harte had been waiting for a mistake like this for years. Once Aubrey struck a superior officer - even a God-damned lubberly infernal bugger like Harte - he was done for. And that was why Aubrey had swallowed insult after injury from Harte so often, and he was damned if he'd let Harte finally win after all these years.

From the great stern window of the Admiral's cabin Aubrey caught a glimpse of the new commodore about to board his ship and hoist his pennant. The sight brought up a fresh wave of anger and hatred - and an idea. Aubrey grasped a loop of the neckcloth and shoved it into Harte's gaping mouth. He loosened the ends of the cloth with one hand, while with the other he dragged one of Harte's ineffectually grasping hands behind his back. Quickly securing Harte's other hand, he tied both together. Now the admiral's mouth was gagged and hands secured with his own neckcloth, arching his neck painfully back, and drawing his wrists and shoulders painfully up. Harte still wriggled like a worm on the table, but Aubrey leaned one broad hand on the small of Harte's back whilst drawing his sword with the other.

The gunner on the flagship and Aubrey both saw the pennant flash out at the same instant. Aubrey brought the flat of his blade down hard across Harte's arse at the same instant the first gun cracked out. From long experience Aubrey knew the exact cadence of the guns during a salute. He brought the blade down again and again, the sound of the blow against Harte's breeches masked by the bang of the guns. The thought occurred to him that Harte must also know the rhythm, and would therefore be painfully anticipating each one. Each one of the fifteen for a Commodore.

Harte was anticipating each blow, but the pain was mixed with a much stronger pleasure. Oh why, he thought, _why_ hadn't Aubrey come up with this earlier? No one had _ever_ understood what Harte wanted just like this. Harte's mixture of insecure needling and brown-nosing was _designed_ to evoke reactions like this from strong men, but he rarely received the type of attention he craved. Ledward had offered it on occasion, but Ledward was far away, only his pretty boy Wray here. Wray was good, but there was nothing like the honest righteous anger blazing from Aubrey; from the tall, broad, _strong_ Aubrey. His strength was telling - little more than half-way through his well-earned and long-deserved beating, and Harte was writhing about the table. His head was turned toward Aubrey, and his gagged mouth brushed up against his crotch. 

Aubrey looked down at Harte's face as it rubbed against his breeches. That sight and the sound of the gasps and moans coming through the gag gave him another idea. His right arm still administering the blows, with his left hand he undid his placket and lifted away the gag. He grabbed Harte's hair up tight against the back of his head and forced his mouth on the stiffening prick.

His prick stiffened even more as Harte worked it over expertly. Aubrey used his hand in Harte's hair to maneuver his head where he wanted him. As his pleasure grew his hips instinctively began thrusting, unconcerned with any gagging noises Harte made.

The naval officer part of Aubrey's mind, always on duty regardless of circumstances, fortunately kept count of the gun salutes and stopped at the fifteenth. He dropped the sword, letting it lie across Harte's back, and brought his right hand to help work his member. Soon he was on the edge, and he pulled away from Harte's mouth. Still using his left hand to hold Harte's head in place, he finished himself off and spent all over Harte's face.

Finally he let Harte's head go while he buttoned up his breeches and straightened his clothes. He retrieved his sword and sheathed it. Harte lay limply over the table, his legs dangling off one side and his head, dripping, off the other.

Aubrey left the cabin and nodded pleasantly to the sentry outside. As he came up on deck he felt much happier and more satisfied than he could have imagined mere minutes ago. He dropped down among his properly somber barge-men, who had all heard about the new commodore and Aubrey's disappointment. Harte could still prosecute him for striking a superior officer, but then Aubrey would positively enjoy being present at the court-martial when Harte had to display the evidence. In fact, he would be thinking about that evidence at tomorrow's dinner, given by the Admiral to honor the new Commodore. The barge-men eyed each other nervously when they heard their captain laugh out loud.


End file.
